Category: Discipleship

At the Intersection of Our Hopes and Fears

At the intersection of our hopes and fears“The hopes and fears of all the years are met in Thee tonight.”

We exist in a contradiction of emotions. Moments of great faith and courage. Moments of great fear and trembling. But between those extreme moments, we often swim in a sea of ambivalence. Tumultuous waves of fear, doubt, hate, anger, self-loathing, and cynicism threaten to drown our hopes, dreams, faith, love and peace. We search for a life preserver to keep us afloat long enough to survive.

We must face negative realities in order to survive, but focus on positive ones to thrive. What if we could find solid footing to maintain serenity in the midst of a storm of adversity? What if we could remain peaceful and calm when the waves of despair threaten to capsize our vessel? What if we could hold onto virtue during moments of weakness when tempted to compromise our values? What if there really was a life preserver to keep us from drowning in that sea of ambivalence? What if we could overcome our fears with hope?

At the intersection of our hopes and fears we find the babe of Bethlehem. During his human lifetime, that baby grew into a man who would calm storms, stop angry waves, offer the tender touch of healing and forgiveness. He would provide courage to a widowed mother, sight to a blinded beggar, a place at the table for the hungry, downtrodden and oppressed, freedom to one enslaved by the chains of demons, and tender mercy to a woman caught in adultery. Ask any one of them. Ask any one of the countless others named and unnamed in the Gospels. They will tell you. Jesus Christ met them at a moment when they were about to go under, capsized by fear. But his touch, his glance, his word made the difference. Hope.

Heaven and earth intersected in Bethlehem more than 2,000 years ago. God came down to human level to show us his heart and compassion. Hope met fear. And hope won.

It’s not about Bethlehem. It’s about that baby boy who spans the centuries and more. He spans eternity. And his love spans the chasm between our sea of ambivalence and the solid ground of his destiny. That’s why pastor Phillips Brooks penned those words more than a century ago. We hear them sung today in shopping malls and sanctuaries: “The hopes and fears of all the years are met in Thee tonight.”   ©2013 Don Detrick

A Thanksgiving Story

a thanksgiving story 3Ten men huddle around an open fire on a chilly evening.  Their eyes are hungry with anticipation as they study the meager contents of a simmering pot, their only meal for the day.  These are hard times, and food is scarce – especially for them.

“I heard he’s coming tomorrow,” one of the ten, a rabbi, states.

“You mean the Galilean, the one they call Jesus of Nazareth?” asks another.  The questioner is from Samaria, a sandalmaker by trade.  Samaritans are a common enough sight in this border town between Galilee and Samaria.

“Yes, he’s the one” answers the rabbi.

A small gust of wind fans the flames to illuminate the face of the man next to the Samaritan.  His visage is scarred, almost grotesque.  His nose, or what was once his nose, is now a protruding ulcer.  He struggles to breathe through his mouth. Large spots of raw flesh randomly appear between patches of beard.  He speaks next, with some difficulty.   “I’ve heard of him.  They say he is a miracle-worker.   I believe in miracles, although I can’t say I’ve ever seen one myself.  We Pharisees have always believed in miracles.  Why, the Scriptures abound with stories about miracles and angels and the like.  I remember the stimulating discussion on the subject I had with a Sadducee in Jerusalem a few years ago.  But that was before . . . .” his voice trails off as another begins to speak.

“Well, that’s easy enough for you to say.  After all, you’ve always had a smooth life – up until now anyway.  But I’ve always had to earn a living by the sweat of my brow.  Nobody could ever say that this Galilean potter wasn’t a hard worker.  The only miracle I’ve ever seen was one I made with my own two hands.”  He holds up his hands and in the glow of the fire one wonders how those hands could ever have produced anything of beauty or value.   They are deformed and ugly – worthless for any meaningful work.  Only one finger is recognizable on one hand, two on the other.  In silent anguish, he lowers them to his side, despising their uselessness.

A break in the clouds reveals a full moon and for a moment a clear picture of the ten shadowy figures appears.  It is not a sight for the weak-stomached.  For each one seems to be a victim of some great physical disaster.  Perhaps a terrible accident, or a fire, maybe they are war veterans – it’s not clear at the moment.

“The soup’s almost ready, and I’m ready to stop this discussion about miracles” another states, a note of sarcasm in his voice.  “Like my potter friend here, I’m from up north near Bethsaida.  I once had a thriving business in the marketplace there.  Over the years I’ve met a number of folks from Nazareth.  But that was before this happened to me.  Anyway, like I was saying everybody knows nothing good could ever come out of Nazareth.  If this Jesus is from there, he’s no miracle worker.”

Another speaks, his voice cracking with age.  Yet the men listen to him with a respect reserved for one who speaks with the wisdom of many years.  “Yesterday people in town said Jesus of Nazareth recently visited Jerusalem and there he healed a crippled woman and a man who could not walk.  He had a condition the physicians call dropsy.  He healed that man on the Sabbath day and created quite a stir.”

“Yes, but what about us?”  The old man was interrupted by another.   “We’re all in this thing together.  I’m only thirty years old.  I have a wife and children, and was ready to go into business for myself as a tentmaker.  But now my wife and family have returned to the home of her father.  I may never see them again.  I’m forced to spend my days begging and my nights with you vagabonds.  I think I could still work with my hands and make the best tents ever, but who would buy them?  Nobody would even touch them.  ‘Unclean!’ they would say.  What about us?  Could this Jesus heal lepers like us?”

“I’ve been told by a reliable source” the old man continued, “that Jesus healed a Galilean not long ago of leprosy.  In fact, some say that this man is traveling around bearing witness to his healing and telling people that Jesus of Nazareth is the Messiah.”  The eyes of the men are all on the old man now.  A glimmer of hope has made the soup seem unimportant for the moment.

“Do you believe it’s true?” the young tentmaker asks.

“It could be” states the elder.  “I don’t really care if Jesus of Nazareth is the Messiah or not.  I’ll let the experts decide that.  But if this Jesus can heal, I must see him.  I’m an old man and may never have a chance like this again.  I dread the thought of dying as a leper, an untouchable.  Why, no one would even give me a proper burial.  I don’t know about you, but tomorrow when Jesus of Nazareth comes, I’m going to be waiting, within shouting distance of him.  If this Jesus is as kind and merciful as they say he is, I intend to get his attention.  And then I’m going to ask him to heal me.”

“What have we got to lose?” asks the rabbi.  “Let’s go with him.  Surely a group of ten men together will have a better chance to get His attention.”

So one by one each agrees to go in the morning and join their voices with the voice of the old man.  They eat their soup in silence, each deep his own thoughts.  Some are skeptical, with a cynicism borne by years of bitter suffering and rejection.  Others finish their gruel and drift into sleep with dreams of love and family, employment and full stomachs.  Others lay awake, for the first time in many days looking forward to tomorrow and wondering what it will bring forth.

The morning dawns as bright as the expectation of what life could have been for these ten if it were not for leprosy.  Leprosy!  How they despise the word!  Leprosy!  To them the word means isolation and ridicule, poverty and vagrancy, hunger and despair.

Most of all, the word means unclean.  They did not ask for this curse, it just happened.  Oh, at first each tried to hide it.  But you cannot hide something like this for long.  And then came the inquisition, and then the meeting with the priests and finally the pronouncement of that vile word “unclean!”

As wretched as their wounds, even more wretched is their destiny.  Forced into isolation from healthy people, the leper is required to warn all who approach by calling out “unclean, unclean.”  Even the most spirited individual is soon beaten down in such a condition.

One can’t really expect others to understand a disease they are not afflicted with.  Most associate the plague with the person.  So lepers take their place in society as less than second class citizens.  In fact, they are treated worse than dogs by most.

There is not a moment of the day that these men are not keenly aware of what this disease has done to them – and what it has taken from them.  Leprosy!

There is not a day that goes by that each doesn’t ask the inevitable question:  “Why me?”  Obsessed by those words, they repeat them over and over.  “Why me?  Why me?”  But the answer never comes.  The silence echoes through their minds, constantly haunting their vacant souls.  Only a rational defense can break the silent spell.  Each one reasons:  “Surely I’ve never done anything to deserve this.”   Or worse, “Maybe I do deserve this.”

Thus finding no meaningful purpose for their plight, their tormented minds ponder another question.  A question that at least tends to soothe their wounds with the balm of fantasy:  “What if?”

  • “What if I were still a successful businessman?  I would never again take for granted my position.  I would give more than a paltry sum when alms for the poor were received.  Yes, I’d be more compassionate to the downtrodden and the needy.”
  •  “What if I were still able to live at home with my wife and children?  I’d never again resent having to feed those extra mouths.  I’d smile when the children needed new clothes, thankful for the ability to provide for a growing family.”
  •  “What if I were an esteemed teacher in Israel?  I had such a promising future.  My mentor said he had never taught a student with such insight into the Scriptures.   He once said I had a gift for teaching that would make my name prominent in Jerusalem, and I would be sure to use that gift to the best of my ability for God’s glory.  I would still have a home of my own.  I would be welcome in any synagogue.  And whenever I saw a leper, I would consider:  ‘There, but for the grace of God, go I.”

But as always, the stark realities of their existence soon terminates their brief respite of fantasy.  As diverse as they once were, they are now welded together by the white hot fires of suffering.  Leprosy, an unwelcome guest which suddenly invaded their lives, has thrown them together as surely as it cast them out of society and away from family and friends.

But today is different as the ten shuffle off together toward town.  Today there is hope.  Together they have formed a plan, tied to an incredible possibility.  Surely they have little to lose.  Their fate is already sealed anyway.  Why not believe the impossible?  Onward they proceed as faith replaces their fears.

They position themselves on the side of a road, the road by which Jesus is coming this day.  A crowd is already gathering in the early morning chill.  Soon the crowd becomes a multitude and some say “You lepers, get out of the way.  We don’t want you here.  Make room for us.”

If only one leper had been there, he could have been persuaded to move.  But ten, together, had formed a determined defense.  They had lost much.  They had nothing more to lose.  They made up their minds.  They would not move.  And they would not be moved by force of hand, for no one dared touch them, or even come close for fear of the curse.  So they held their ground.

Soon the noise of the multitude reached a fervent pitch in the ears of the ten lepers.  “It’s him.  It’s Jesus!” they hear.

A thousand questions race through their minds.  “Will he come our way?  Will he hear us?  Will he care?   Could he heal us?  Will he heal me?”  Now they see the object of the crowd’s attention.  They see Jesus of Nazareth.

“Yes it is him,” they agree.  “Now is our chance, we must act!”   Over the tumult of the crowd, with one mighty effort they raise their collective voices in a great shout of “Jesus, Master, have mercy on us.”  The multitude grows silent.  Jesus turns, and spots the ten.

No one needs to offer an explanation.  Daylight reveals the obvious about these men.  Still, the embarrassed leader of the local synagogue speaks up, “Jesus, those ten lepers are vagrants.  Just beggars and not at all like the fine citizens of our community.”  But Jesus does not even acknowledge the man.  The ten lepers now have his full attention.

“What will he do?  How will Jesus respond?  Will he wave us away so he can visit with the “respectable” citizens of the community?” the lepers wonder.

With their eyes riveted on him, they hear Jesus say “Go, show yourselves unto the priest.”

“What kind of a command was that?  Doesn’t he know that it was the priests who pronounced us as ‘unclean’ in the first place?” they ask.   As they look at each other, they see nothing that would change the priest’s diagnosis of their condition.

“But there was something compelling about the way he spoke,” replies the former Pharisee.  Once again their gaze moves from each other back to Jesus.  “Yes, and there is something about the way he looks at us.  His smile is not a smile of mockery, but a smile of compassion,” says the sandalmaker.

One by one, in obedience to his voice, they proceed.  They are off to find the nearest priest.    Whether they believed before or not, as they walk along, each experiences a miracle of transformation.  Leprosy, the despised disease will plague them no longer.  Every man is healed and given a new lease on life.  Gone are the scars, the deformities, and the open sores.  Gone also are the stares of people as even missing extremities are replaced with new ones covered with skin as smooth as a baby’s.

Running and jumping, shouting with ecstasy, they proceed to their destination.  Along the way, the Samaritan ponders “Why should I go to a Jewish priest? I won’t be accepted by him.”  He remembers the stinging pain of rejection even before leprosy had afflicted him.  “You fellows go on ahead, perhaps I’ll see you later” he says.  “I’ve got some unfinished business.”

tenlepersThe other nine don’t seem to mind that he left the group.  In fact, now that they are all normal, it just doesn’t seem right for them to be associating with a Samaritan anyway.

Filled with a riot of emotions, the Samaritan tries to clear his mind as he formulates a plan.  “I will go show myself to a priest who won’t reject me because of my ancestry or birth.  I will present myself to a priest who seems to understand, and be touched by the way I feel.”

He makes his way back to the crowd, back to where Jesus is.  Cleansed of his disease, he falls prostrate at the feet of the One who made it possible.  His hands, once deformed by leprosy, now clutch the feet of Jesus.  He cries with a joy known only to one who has experienced sudden freedom after escaping from the prison of deep suffering and rejection.

Overcome with emotion, and struggling to form the proper words he speaks:  “Thank you, Jesus.  Thank you.  I was as good as dead.  Now I live again.  Thank you.”  But mere words seem inadequate to express the appreciation he feels.  From his inner soul he sobs deeply as tears of joy fall on the feet of Jesus, his real High Priest.  There is no pretense, no show.  His gratitude is sincere.

“Were not all ten cleansed?” Jesus asks.  “Where are the other nine?  Was no one found to return and give praise to God except this foreigner?”  Jesus was addressing the crowd, not the man at his feet.  Looking tenderly at the healed man he said “Rise and go; your faith has made you well.”  (Luke 17:17 NIV)

Only one returned to give thanks.  Ninety percent went on their way, more enthralled with the gift than the giver.  Jesus healed them anyway, “for He is kind unto the unthankful and to the evil.”  (Luke 6:35 KJV)  It is this great kindness of the Savior which ought to make us want to offer thanks.

The Samaritan leper knew what he had been saved from.  For this he expressed thanks to the One who made it possible.  Jesus became not only his healer, but his Savior.

What would your life be like today if you were still being eaten alive by the leprosy of an unchanged sin nature?  What parts of your life would be missing?  How much would be broken, ugly and scarred?  Do you remember what it’s like to feel absolutely hopeless, knowing that even those who love you best are powerless to meet your deepest needs?  Can you recall when you looked to Jesus and He healed the leprosy of your sin, forgiving and removing the ugliness?  How you wondered in amazement at how He is restoring the missing and broken parts of your life as you go on your way?  How long since you’ve returned to your High Priest, to fall at His feet and express your highest gratitude?

Like the leper who returned to give thanks, may we also be grateful not only for what Jesus has done for us, but for what He has spared us from.   “Thanks be to God for His indescribable gift!”  (II Cor. 9:15 NIV).

(Story based on Luke 17; ©2013 Don Detrick)

Moments of Mystery – Part 1

Moments of MysteryYou’ve heard it before, “Inquiring minds need to know.”  Does that describe you? Do you collect bits of trivia because you never know when the information gleaned might come in handy, like when you are a contestant on Jeopardy and need to formulate a question to the answer, “The leading cause of toenail fungus in Southern Hemisphere sloths.” Have you developed skills, such as eavesdropping or jumping to conclusions just because you are intrigued by what you don’t know? Do you love a mystery and enjoy speculating about whodunit before that information is fully revealed?

Maybe you are on the other end of the spectrum, and don’t feel a compulsion for speculation.  When others drone on about personal details you did not ask for, you are not embarrassed to say, “TMI, that is more than I want to know about that subject!” You believe that life’s perplexing questions block your path often enough, without intentionally trying to stumble upon more of them.

Most of us probably fall somewhere in between the two extremes, striking a balance between being inquisitive and being contented to mind our own business. Yet there is something to be said about a sense of wonder and mystery. A four year old’s constant barrage of questions about who and what and why and where and when may reach the point of annoyance, but you can’t help admiring their quest for understanding. The world is opening up to them and their mind is beginning to grasp for answers, thus their questions pepper us with pleas for an explanation to all things observed in their environment.

In the age of information, we expect instant answers to every inquiry and problem. Knowledge our parents might have spent hours gleaning from searching card catalogs and library shelves we discover only a click or swipe away. If Google doesn’t know, Bing might, and Siri will be glad to answer, even if she provides nothing more than comic relief. “How far is to Lincoln?” you may ask while driving a Nebraska highway.

“There are four restaurants nearby that serve ling cod,” she replies to your question. Grrr…

To solve a really perplexing puzzle takes time. Gleaning valuable skills and insight requires years of intensive study and practice. You can’t become a board certified brain surgeon by taking a three week online class or watching a couple of YouTube videos. The same is true for any worthwhile pursuit. So why do we sometimes expect our journey with Christ will only lead us on happy trails filled with light and road signs every mile or so explaining our precise location and the exact conditions ahead?

Is it possible that the road of suffering might provide moments of mystery for our benefit? Could those dark shadows from the threatening storm cause us to cling ever closer to Jesus? Might our faith muscles stretch and develop through the twists and turns of an uphill climb when we don’t know exactly what lies around the next bend? Could the mystery of those moments cause us to speak with a little less certainty about our own ability and instead trust more fully in God’s? And is it possible that we are better for those mysterious moments because we can now encourage fellow travelers to keep climbing, keep pursuing, and keep moving forward because we have felt the hand of the Good Shepherd leading us through the darkness of the valley of the shadow of death?

Inquiring minds need to know, yet there are times when no easy answer comes. Ask Jesus. His plea, “My God, My God, why have you forsaken me?” was met with silence on earth. Yet you can be sure it was heard in heaven. He understands the moments of mystery you face. And you don’t have to face them alone.

Crossing the Gap

Crossing The Gap - Caterpillar“It requires courage to cross the gap from where you are, to where you want to be.”

“Donnie, the neighbor called and our cows are in their pasture.” That meant round up time for this young cowboy. And it was not a welcome call. Getting those critters back to their home pasture often proved to be an exercise in futility. Growing up on a farm, I never saw a fence our cattle could not eventually find a way through. After all, fences break and the electricity sometimes goes off.

But there exists a sure way to stop them from seeking greener pastures that works in certain situations. For some reason, cows are afraid of crossing a gap or slotted surface. That’s why you’ll see cattle guards on bridges or crossings in cattle country – just slotted planks with space between them that keep them safely within the boundaries of where they are supposed to be. They take the place of a gate that would need to be open and shut every time a vehicle or person passed through. Sometimes even lines painted on pavement serve the purpose. Even though there would be little actual danger from them jumping or trotting across, they stay put because cattle somehow perceive danger in crossing that obstacle, even if the grass is greener on the other side.

In contrast, the above photo I took shows a caterpillar crossing a gap in the concrete on his way to who knows where. He was making good time, and the gap did not slow him down one bit. Relatively speaking, the gap in the concrete was larger to him than the gap a cow sees in a cattle guard. No matter to the caterpillar. Whether guided by instinct or a simple need to find something to eat far from the barren pavement, the caterpillar did not mind crossing the gap.

It got me to thinking. Am I more like cattle, or more like caterpillars? I’m glad it’s not completely an either/or proposition because frankly I would not care to be either one. Yet how often am I hindered or stopped altogether by some gap in the road that distracts me from my true destination? While I’m not suggesting a reckless strategy, how often does fear of the unknown keep me from moving forward?

How about you?  Are you known for prudence and counting the cost, or do people see you as an adventurer, undaunted by gaps in the concrete, clouds in the sky, or rain in the forecast? More importantly, how does God see you, and how do you view yourself?

Prudence and counting the cost are both biblical virtues. However, an excess of caution can lead to a shortage of progress. An object at rest tends to stay at rest. To move forward requires some risk, but do you want to spend the rest of your life resting where you are—especially if God has given you a vision for something more? What will happen if you stay where you are? What might occur if you venture forth and cross the gap between where you are where you want to be?  What would it take to make a decision to cross the gap and venture ahead? What would it take to bridge the gap once you decide to do so?

It requires courage to bridge the gap from where you are to where you want to be. My wife, Jodi knows this. She excels at life coaching where she helps people cross crucial gaps because she has done so herself. My heart will be swelling with pride as I watch her at commencement exercises this weekend at the Assemblies of God Theological Seminary in Springfield, MO. Because I know as she crosses the line to receive her doctoral diploma, this accomplishment occured because she courageously crossed many gaps to get to this point.

Don & Jodi Wedding Cake 6-8-74 PSWe married as teenagers, and she worked full time as a dental assistant so I could finish Bible college and enter the ministry. With her many gifts and skills, not to mention her winning personality, she could have had a career of her own. Instead, she chose the career of staying at home and being a mother to our three children and helper to me as an unpaid assistant pastor. Her imprint is clearly seen on our children’s lives, and the lives of hundreds of others to this day through her life, ministry, coaching, and writing for The Seattle Times and her new highly acclaimed book, The Jesus-Hearted Woman.

How did she get from where she was to where she is today? After our children were off on their own, she courageously accepted a call to serve as leader of our network’s ministry to women. Then, without a college degree of her own, she began a decade long journey filled with books, classes, papers, lectures, books and more books to read in pursuit of those degrees. And she did so with disctinction, having been chosen among her fellow seminarians to be one of the commencement speakers.Don & Jodi Detrick 5-2-13 lower res

She will be crossing the line this weekend as Rev. Jodi Detrick, D.Min. with a 4.0 GPA in her doctoral classes. She crossed a lot of gaps to get from where she was to where she is today. Gender gaps, educational gaps, economic gaps, and age gaps did not deter her. She enjoys coaching others who benefit from her own experience of gap crossing. And if you notice, as she takes her place with her fellow graduates this weekend, you’ll see me smiling broadly. I couldn’t be more proud.

Letting Go!

Letting Go - remote control“Put down that remote control. Now! Yes, I’m talking to you. Even if you are a male. Especially if you are a male. Put it down, slowly, on the coffee table. Then step back.”

Hard to do isn’t it? We’ve all watched siblings or spouses wrestle over the remote control. Nobody wants to wrestle to a draw. Everybody wants to wrestle to win. But what if the person you’re wrestling with is yourself?

Giving up control is seldom easy. Neither is losing. Unless by losing you are actually gaining. Like the times you might have lost at a game or something you knew you could easily win. Instead, you let somebody else win because you knew losing at that moment was actually winning. Winning a friend, or winning the heart of a child, or winning the wrestling match between your humility and your selfish pride. Tough choice to make, but often worth it. Because keeping your hand on the remote control is not the most important thing.

We come into this world crying with a closed fist. We generally leave with a final sigh and an open hand. What if we lived every day in between our first and last with an open hand? Instead of being grabbers, what if we moved toward opportunities for letting go?  Instead of trying to get at the head of the line, the closest parking space, the corner office, how would it feel to let it go?

“What a loser of an idea,” you might conclude. Taken to an extreme, I would agree. But most people don’t take it to an extreme. Most of us have to daily make a conscious effort to even think a little about others. Because we default to think a lot about ourselves. We are hardwired to think like a crying, grasping baby. Only maturity and an awareness of God’s grace makes us think more like Mother Teresa. What if we took a bit more seriously these words from the Bible?

“Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit. Rather, in humility value others above yourselves, not looking to your own interests but each of you to the interests of the others. In your relationships with one another, have the same attitude of mind Christ Jesus had: Who, being in very nature God, did not consider equality with God something to be used to his own advantage; rather, he made himself nothing by taking the very nature of a servant, being made in human likeness. And being found in appearance as a human being, he humbled himself by becoming obedient to death— even death on a cross!” (Philippians 2:3-8 TNIV)

Remote. Control. What do those words really mean? I think they mean “distant” and “demanding.” Not qualities we normally admire. Quite the opposite of Jesus who humbly drew near the human race by becoming one of us, and took on “the nature of a servant.” Even though he could have been a “remote control” God, he did not choose to do so. Relationships thrive, not when we are distant and demanding, but when we draw near and serve one another.

“Put down that remote control.” Trust me, you’ll feel better if you do. Let somebody else win that wrestling match. What you gain will be so much more than what you lose.

Semper Fi: Enduring Influence – Part 2 “Heroes”

Semper Fi = Enduring Influence“We’re looking for a few good men”

– The U.S. Marine Corps.

I remember frequently seeing or hearing that phrase as a boy growing up during the Viet Nam era. In print, television, or radio commercials, the message was the same: it requires something to be a Marine. It requires faithful service, and only a few meet that requirement.

Though not a Marine, our nation yesterday (4/11/13) honored a faithful hero. The Congressional Medal of Honor was awarded posthumously by President Obama to U.S. Army Chaplain (Capt.) Emil Kapaun, a hero who died in 1950 during the Korean War serving and saving the lives of his fellow soldiers.

Chaplain Kapaun heroically saved the life of a wounded soldier who was about to be executed by the enemy by running to and lifting the wounded man. Both were captured and sent to a POW camp, where the chaplain continued to serve as a representative of Jesus, frequently giving his own tiny ration of food so other soldiers could live. He modeled faith and virtue. While keeping hope alive for others, he died of starvation in that camp.Chaplain Kapaun US Army Hero - Congressional Medal of Honor - Korean WAr

One iconic image of Chaplain Kapaun captures his story. The photo shows him helping a wounded soldier, with his arm around his shoulder. In an online article in Time magazine, Chaplain Col. Kenneth W. Stice describes Chaplain Kapaun’s heroism:

“I’ve read his story and wondered what were the influences that shaped him to be such a man of influence, willing to make extraordinary sacrifices for others.  Well there’s the obvious formation of his abiding religious faith and practice. That is common to all chaplains.

But there’s also the influence of his family life – as one who grew up in rural Kansas, on a farm, within a tightly-connected community. It was in that context that he learned the value of hard and honest work, loyalty and support of neighbors, and simple a lifestyle with meager possessions.

Both of those streams of influence were absolutely vital in preparing him to endure captivity with such humility and courage, so that he became the inspiration of other POWs to carry on.  Chaplain Kapaun was consistent in his daily walk, and how he lived his faith.

The remarkable acts of bravery under direct fire in November of 1950 were reinforced through those daily acts of religious faith. All chaplains have the opportunity to make that impact on others with consistent living that was epitomized by Chaplain Kapaun’s example. His consistent walk and witness encourage me on my own journey of faith. But that same witness serves to convict me of areas that I need to be more faithful.”[1]

Did you notice how many times Col. Stice used the word, “influence” to describe this heroic man? I was touched reading about Chaplain Kapaun’s faithfulness and enduring influence. And I had to ask, What do all faithful heroes have in common? Here’s what I came up with:

  • They are present and available rather than absent and inaccessible. Can my loved ones count on me to be present and available–to be there for them when they need me?
  • They are alert and engaged, rather than pre-occupied and distant. Am I present when I am present, or neglecting my duty to pay attention to my family, my friends, my responsibilities?
  • They are courageous and sacrificial, rather than playing it safe out of harm’s way. Will I protect and serve others, or only myself?

The Marines are looking for a few good men who will be “always faithful.” It’s not a gender thing, anybody can be a hero to somebody by being faithful in who you are and faithful in what you do. Enlist today, your faithful influence will endure. Semper Fi!


[1] U.S. Army Chaplain Col. Kenneth W. Stice, “Medal of Honor: Chaplain Kapaun’s Heroism Feted Today. Time, April 11, 2013 at http://nation.time.com/2013/04/11/medal-of-honor-chaplain-kapaums-heroism-feted-today/ accessed 4/12/13.

Semper Fi = Enduring Influence: Part 1

Semper Fi = Enduring Influence“There’s no such thing as an ex-Marine!” While I have heard NCIS Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs on television’s top-rated series make the remark many times, I was somewhat surprised to hear the unison voices of three students echo the exact sentiment. Someone in the university class I was teaching happened to mention that a number of their cohorts were ex-Marines, thus their collective and corrective response.

It got me thinking. What is it that makes a select group of individuals so impassioned that they proudly wear the title, “Marine” as a badge of honor forever? Not “ex-Marine,” mind you, but even years following active duty they subscribe to an identity in the present tense, “Marine.”

What occurs within that window of time in active service, be it two years or thirty, that becomes part of the fabric of their lives forever? What creates the ethos, the culture, the duty, the mission that permeates their collective DNA? What could inspire random diverse individuals with unique personalities, gifts, and talents into a unit with a collective identity and purpose? What is so compelling about their mission that men and women risk life and limb to defend each other and more importantly, defend the dignity and freedom of their nation? What could possibly generate such enduring influence?

Books could be written on the subject (and they have). Techniques, strategies, training, culture, combat, duty, shared quarters, community, language, experience, camaraderie—these all contribute. But in the end it really comes down to two words: Semper fi. Not “semper fidelis.” The abbreviated version works fine, and is more efficient in the Marine economy. Latin is not the strong suit for most Marines. And like Special Agent Gibbs on NCIS, most Marines I know are people of few words. They choose action over verbiage. They don’t need a lot of fancy words to proclaim their faithfulness, they show it every day. They get things done. They can be counted on when it counts. Their influence endures. In a word, leadership is influence, and they lead by example.

We have all experienced the effects of unfaithfulness. Needless suffering, broken promises, broken vows, broken families, and broken lives are the inevitable result. Even the most faithful person may have a lapse of faithfulness. Unfaithfulness is common. Faithfulness is rare. That explains the question posed by the writer of Proverbs: “Many claim to have unfailing love, but a faithful person who can find?” (TNIV)

Semper fi. Always faithful. Always on active duty. Always ready to be found, identified, and counted. What if every disciple of Jesus Christ was as quick as my Marine students to identify with Jesus? Never an ex-disciple. Never a lapse, but always faithful. Who knows, we might become people of enduring influence. And we might just change our world.

Easter Hope: Resurrection & Reconciliation

Easter hope Resurrection & Reconciliation - PorcupineThe German philosopher Arthur Schopenhauer (1788-1860) compared the human race to a bunch of porcupines huddling together on a cold winter’s night. He said, “The colder it gets outside, the more we huddle together for warmth; but the closer we get to one another, the more we hurt one another with our sharp quills. And in the lonely night of earth’s winter eventually we begin to drift apart and wander out on our own and freeze to death in our loneliness.”[1]

But winter does not last forever, and in the Spring Easter warms the cold heart with hope. Christ provided us an alternative: to forgive each other for the intentional and unintentional pokes we receive. Because Jesus died and rose again, we have hope. Forgiveness, kindness and compassion are at the heart of the Gospel. Even in the face of injustice and sinful arrogance, Christians must have hope. Even in the face of anger and hate, Christians must have hope. Even in the face of war and violence and death itself, Christians must have hope. That’s what Easter is all about: hope for resurrection and reconciliation.

The Civil War was the most un-civil period in American history. It is hard to imagine the hatred, animosity and strife, not just between the states, but also between families and friends and neighbors.  620,000 American soldiers on both sides lost their lives in battle or as a direct result of the conflict. To place that in perspective, we must realize that the entire population of the United States at the time was a little over 30 million – thus over 2.0% mortality from the bloody war! All told, there were more casualties in the Civil War than in all wars America has fought combined from then until now.

During the war, half the men of military age in the state of Iowa served in the Union army and more than 12,500 of them died and more than 8,500 of them went home with serious wounds. The devastation in the south was even worse. Ten billion dollars in property damage – 40% of its livestock destroyed. The state of Mississippi spent 20% of its budget on artificial limbs for the wounded in 1866.[2]

In 1913, the Federal government held a fiftieth anniversary reunion at Gettysburg. It lasted three days. Survivors of unspeakable atrocities bivouacked in the old battlefield together, swapping stories, and looking up old comrades. They had witnessed the worst of the human race, but now these aged soldiers and one time mortal enemies came together for a final memorial meeting.

The climax of the gathering was a re-enactment of Pickett’s Charge. Thousands of spectators gathered to watch as the Union veterans took their positions on Cemetery Ridge, and waited as their old adversaries emerged from the woods on Seminary Ridge and started forward toward them across the long, flat fields. Philip Myers, (who witnessed the event as an 18-year-old) wrote, “We could see not rifles and bayonets but canes and crutches.  We soon could distinguish the more agile ones aiding those less able to maintain their places in the ranks.”

As they neared the northern line, they broke into one final, defiant rebel yell.  At the sound, “after half a century of silence, a moan, a sigh, a gigantic gasp of unbelief” rose from the Union men on cemetery Ridge.

“It was then,” wrote Myers, “that the Yankees, unable to restrain themselves longer, burst from behind the stone wall, and flung themselves upon their former enemies. . .not in mortal combat, but reunited in brotherly love and affection.”

“It was,” says Joshua Lawrence Chamberlain, a Union hero of Gettysburg, “a transcendental experience.  A radiant fellowship of the fallen.”[3]

“A radiant fellowship of the fallen.” With all due respect to those Civil War heroes, that also seems a fitting description for a community of believers in Jesus Christ. Though fallen in sin, we are picked up and redeemed in Christ.

If members of the Civil War could discover reconciliation and forgiveness, surely we can find hope through reconciliation for the uncivil way humans—friends, strangers and family members alike—sometimes treat each other. And on this Easter Sunday as we celebrate the resurrection of Jesus, let’s not forget what He said on Good Friday as He suffered unjustly at the hands of those He created:  “Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing.”  (Luke 22:34 NIV)

Maybe the quills of broken promises and broken lines of communication have popped your balloon of hope. Maybe things just haven’t turned out as you expected.  Jesus rose from the dead so our hopes and dreams could be resurrected and we could be reconciled to him and to each other.

Jesus Christ is unique for two miraculous reasons: a virgin’s womb and an empty tomb. As fully God and fully human, Jesus suffered as no man ever suffered, and on the cross took upon Himself the sins of the world. His resurrection from the dead offers hope for the future and makes possible reconciliation for us all. Isn’t that a better choice than being poked by porcupines?


[2]The Civil War by Geoffrey C. Ward, Ric & Ken Burns.  New York:  Alfred A. Knopf, 1990   pp. 398-404.

[3]From Ken Burns, The Civil War Video series Vol. 9.  http://hardtogetvideos.com/civil_war.html

Resurrection: Signs of Spring

Resurrection - Signs of SpringI saw it this morning, a lone neighborhood rhododendron protesting the stark dormant landscape by unfurling its pink and ivory petals. Against all odds on this dark and rainy day, it victoriously displayed the inevitable triumph of resurrection. Though all outward circumstances indicate winter still maintains its frigid clutch on the landscape, the rebellious rhodie down the street courageously emerged to reveal its delicate beauty, despite the cold. And despite the biting wind and rain, I watched famished bumble bees, laden with pollen, battle one another for the sweet nourishment it offered them following months of impoverished hunger.

As I write this afternoon, another late winter squall fiercely peppers my window with raindrops like bullets from a machine gun. Although the official announcement of spring  is only a few days away, today the coming of spring seems a long way off–except for the memory of this morning’s lone rhododendron. Like a brave sentinel, it boldly maintains its post within enemy territory.First Rhodie lower res large 3-16-13 Petal by petal it unfolds to reveal a spectacle so gloriously un-winter like that I threw caution to the wind and rain, jumping at the chance for a photograph. In the face of possible damage to camera or equipment, I gladly took the risk in exchange for a permanent reminder that winter does not last forever. Knowing the unpredictability of our Pacific Northwest weather, spring may not truly arrive for a couple of months. In the meantime, the photo is a vivid reminder of spring’s inevitability.

Last week another photo opportunity reminded me of the same principle as I captured a shot of a rose bush with emerging leaves next to dead and decaying blossoms from last season, alongside a bright red rose hip (top photo). That rose hip, like the emerging leaves, serves as a reminder of life. For some reason, possibly having something to do with our bumblebee friends, that particular blossom was pollenated. So unlike its dead neighboring blossoms, it has become pregnant with seeds, and grown fatter over the winter months. Unless pruned by the gardener, it will soon open to scatter its seeds, spreading life. Death and life. Winter and spring. We can’t have one without the other.

During this holy season in the weeks leading up to Easter, we are reminded of resurrection hope in the midst of challenging, wintery circumstances. Jesus said, “Because I live, you shall live also” (John 14:19). But before a resurrection, there had to be a death. The sunshine of Palm Sunday gave way to the wintery shadows of the Holy Week. The weather changed when the passionate crowds turned icy in their fickle rejection of the King they had warmly welcomed days earlier. And the entire world seemed captured by winter’s frigid, dark embrace, culminating with the seemingly not good crucifixion on Good Friday.

Can you imagine the questions peppering the minds of Jesus’ followers? They had no familiarity with machine guns or bullets, yet the questions must have relentlessly pounded at the window of their souls. Mary no doubt was reminded of Simeon’s ominous prophecy given years earlier, “a sword will pierce your heart” (Luke 2:35). She wondered, “Why my son? Why now?”

For the disciples, the last three years were re-lived, revealing persistent questions. “Where are the miracles now? Why are we powerless to do something? Why doesn’t God do something?” Where was the glorious revelation of the Heavenly Father, like the voice they heard at Jesus’ transfiguration? Why was His booming voice, “This is my beloved Son,” silent on that day? Why did darkness cover the face of the earth, like the dark questions brooding in their hearts and minds, enveloping their hopes and dreams in disappointment and fear? Why only shadowed silence?

“Why?” always takes precedence as the most persistent of all questions when things go awry. And it persistently remains the most troublesome question. Why did Jesus cry out, “My God, My God, why have you forsaken me?” Forsaken by God – that seems the conclusion when winter covers the landscape and winter’s chill seems permanent. For the disciples it must have generated even more questions. Had God forsaken them? Is that what they had signed up for, given the last three years of their lives for, to be forsaken by God?

During times of winter questioning, it is best to remember the words spoken in an earlier season. The words of explanation, words of comfort, words of hope, spoken to give us perspective on the days ahead when our gardens are currently overflowing and beauty abounds. To remember, we must listen in the first place. What had Jesus told them earlier that would have explained these tragic circumstances? What has He told you, that might sustain and offer hope during a bleak winter storm? What did you learn in the light that you must remember in the dark?

Virtually every birth comes at a painful price. Whether the birth of a human child, or the birth of a dream, birth pains are part of the deal. So why do we endure it? That question trumps the question of pain and suffering. Why does the rose scatter its seeds in the spring? Why does the gardener plant tender young plants into cold soil on a dark and rainy day? Why did Jesus go to the cross? Because of the hope. The hope of new life, eternal life. The hope of something better. The hope of an entire landscape filled with warmth and beauty. The promise of a bountiful harvest.

Thus Jesus went to the cross. He endured the winter of suffering, so we can enjoy the spring of resurrection. That doesn’t mean we won’t have struggles here, or questions. It does mean we can courageously rise above them, like the rebellious rhododendron down the street. And maybe we can provide sweet sustenance to nurture a famished friend. Signs of spring are all around us. Sometimes you must search for them, or create them yourself, but they are there. Hope springs eternal. And eternal life brings hope. ©2013 Don Detrick

 

Do Pessimists Live Longer?

Do Pessimists Live Longer“Thanks for noticing me” defines Eeyore’s typical negative self-image and outlook on life, but he might live longer than his more optimistic cohorts in the hundred-acre wood. At least that would be accurate if you accept a news release issued a few days ago by the American Psychological Association. The report indicates a study showed that older people who have low expectations for a satisfying future may be more likely to live longer, healthier lives than those who see brighter days ahead. [1]

“Our findings revealed that being overly optimistic in predicting a better future was associated with a greater risk of disability and death within the following decade,” said lead author Frieder R. Lang, PhD, of the University of Erlangen-Nuremberg in Germany. “Pessimism about the future may encourage people to live more carefully, taking health and safety precautions.” The study was published online in the journal Psychology and Aging.[2]

While the study allegedly showed a more realistic perspective on life’s expectations may be safer in the long run, it misses a bigger question. Who wants to spentiggereeyored their days listening to, living with, or working alongside a companion like Eeyore? Tigger’s enthusiasm might get him in trouble, and his frantic pace might cause an accident or two along the way, but he surely is a lot more fun to be around than the depressed donkey. Wouldn’t you agree?

The Bible’s cast of characters far outnumbers Winnie the Pooh’s friends in the hundred-acre wood. But among those biblical personalities one can find multitudes of both positive and negative individuals. Some are prone to be one or the other, optimist or pessimist. We see that early on in the biblical narrative, as the jealous and angry pessimist Cain murdered his more compliant and presumably optimistic brother Abel (Genesis 4:1-16). The positive Job worshiped in spite of horrific circumstances, while his negative wife urged him to curse God and die (Job 2:9).

More often though, both descriptors could characterize the same person at different times. Multitudes of biblical characters were both/and when it came to personalities and perspectives. And circumstances often dictated their positive or negative response. Their outcomes however, depended largely upon their attitude of faith and hope in spite of adverse circumstances. Here are a few brief examples:

  • Faithful Moses triumphantly led the children of Israel across the Red Sea, but failed to enter the Promised Land himself because of an angry act of disobedience.
  • The shepherd David became a hero as he single-handedly defeated the giant Goliath with a slingshot, but his biography also shows times of discouragement, depression, and defeat. Read Psalm 55 as an example.
  • Elijah fearlessly faced the prophets of Baal, but ran in fear from Jezebel.
  • Peter walked on water, but also denied the Lord and dejectedly left the ministry to return to his fishing business.
  • Paul could describe his own wretched sinfulness, but also declared he could, “do all things through Christ.”

For each of these individuals, it would not be fair to judge their entire lives by a few events, and there are countless others with similar shortcomings. The examples I cited are only a small glimpse of what would become the big picture and final outcome of their lives.

We are seldom defined by a single action or moment in time. But repeated actions and attitudes become patterns. Those patterns then characterize our perspective and resulting behaviors, as well as the perspective others view us by. Better to focus on things that will matter, than trivial pursuits. Better to focus on the positive than the negative. And better to focus on the eternal, rather than the temporal.

Paul wrote that there are three eternal things: faith, hope, and love in 1 Corinthians 13. It is easy to consider these three virtues as abstract platitudes. But they become concrete when coupled with faithful, hopeful, and loving actions. We should never underestimate the power of our attitudes because they govern both words and behaviors. These eternal elements become the building blocks of a significant life, one that is characterized by the positive, not the negative.

Frankly, I have a very personal reason to question the results of the study. German blood runs through my veins. Detrick used to be spelled Dietrich before my ancestors a few generations back Americanized the spelling of the name. My maternal grandparents were German-speaking Swiss who immigrated to this country a century ago. If my family is any indicator, we could naturally tend to be a pessimistic bunch. We are prone to toggle between, “Thanks for noticing me” and, “You better notice me, and I don’t mean maybe!” In any event, it is interesting that the study which concluded pessimists might live longer took place in Germany with only German participants. Hello! Does anybody besides me think that might make a difference and skew the results?

Even if the study is correct, would you rather live a bit shorter life and be happy, or live longer and be a grouch? Thankfully we have more choices to select from, like this sound advice from the writer of Proverbs:

“My child, never forget the things I have taught you. Store my commands in your heart. If you do this, you will live many years, and your life will be satisfying. Never let loyalty and kindness leave you! Tie them around your neck as a reminder. Write them deep within your heart. Then you will find favor with both God and people, and you will earn a good reputation. Trust in the LORD with all your heart; do not depend on your own understanding. Seek His will in all you do, and He will show you which path to take.” (Proverbs 3:1-6 New Living Translation)

Regardless of your ethnic background or personality type, you can decide to control your attitude. So choose to take the path of faith, hope, and love. It might just be the best formula to increase your days. At least it will bring more loyalty, joy, and kindness to your abode, and make the environment more pleasant for the other residents you meet in your own hundred-acre wood. You will be thankful you did, and they will notice you, too—in a good way. Long live the optimists!